


Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice

by shakespeas



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (why did i feel the need to specify that?), Coffeeshop AU, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Rivalry, Seasonal, autumn vibes, first voltron fic LET'S GO, it's a Small Disaster, keith has a rose tattoo on his collarbone, klance, pumpkin spiced lattes, starbucks except it's not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 13:47:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12277797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakespeas/pseuds/shakespeas
Summary: "Hey, you! Red varsity jacket," Keith bristles, "You, with the weird fingerless gloves and the rose tattoo on your collarbone, this drink’s for you and your hideous mullet!" Lance yells sweetly to the entire cafe. Keith thinks he has a system malfunction right there on the spot.Keith is sent to the rival coffee shop to scope out the competition. Everything was supposed to be swift and painless. Everything turned out to be exactly not that.





	Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice

**Author's Note:**

> heya! since the fall equinox was just last week, i decided to write something for the season with the coffeeshop au cause im an unoriginal fuck. i dunno, this is pretty messily put-together but it's my first klance fic so have mercy :') enjoy !

The last thing Keith Kogane expected to be doing on an early Sunday morning was crossing the road to Volbucks on a fucking _spy mission_.

“Scour the competition,” Lotor had hollered dramatically at Keith while he was busy wiping counters and trying to not look like he wanted to drop off the face of the earth. “Scour the competition and _crush_ the competition, Kogane. I expect results from you. We need all of Volbucks’ secrets. Especially on the damned Pumpkin Spiced Latte.” And then, muttered like an afterthought, _“What the hell do they put in that to make it so irresistible?”_ So here Keith is, jamming an earbud into his ear as he ignores the pedestrian lights and jogs across the road with fallen autumn leaves in faded reds and golds crackling under his worn Chuck Taylors.

A bell chimes as Keith pushes open the door. He subconsciously inhales the aroma of ground coffee beans inside the dimly-lit cafe. Light chatter fills the chilly air that Keith has just brought in with his arrival (much to the chagrin of a pair sitting right by the door). The whirring sound of coffee machines dominates the noise level inside the shop. Keith steals a glance at the menu board tacked on the wall behind the counter despite already knowing his order (or, his mission). Beautifully-crafted as usual, with intricate and colourful chalk designs around the edges of the board and small, creative doodles here and there beside certain orders. _“Defender of your taste buds!”_ A small speech bubble rose from the name of an autumn special. _Whoever draws the menus in this cafe might as well be fucking Picasso,_ Keith thinks scornfully. But he's not jealous. Of course not. 

Volbucks and Starkon had been rival coffee shops for eons. The two most popular coffee chains in the country, the better venue always wavering and undecided. Arguments had been staked. Debates had risen. Sides had been taken over the pair. The rivalry had been around for as long as anyone could remember. Keith’s grandfather even ranted about all the shenanigans that had happened with the two cafes in his time, and he was _ancient._ So Keith, being one of the baristas at Starkon, can’t help the competitive burn in his gut at the masterpiece that is Volbucks’ menu board.

With a deep sigh, Keith steps forward up to the counter, reciting his order’s name over and over in his head. “Hey, welcome to Volbucks! What can I get for you on this very red and orange autumn morning?” The barista grins wide. Keith’s mind blanks, not expecting the lengthy and incredibly amiable greeting. 

“I’ll, uh, get a Big Pumpkin. I mean! A Pumpkin… spicedlatte. Spiced. Yeah. Grande,” Keith declares intelligently. _Ever the man of words, I am._ However the barista seems to understand, and snaps his slender fingers with a satisfying pop. Keith stares at his hands with flaming cheeks. “Ah! One of those monstrosities,” the barista announces. Keith’s eyes flick up to the barista’s apron. A name tag pinned to the side of it reads _Lance_.

“Mon… strous?” Ever the eloquency today.

“Yeah, man,” the barista leans in conspiratorially and hisses with a hand over the side of his mouth like he’s telling Keith some sort of legendary secret. “The Pumpkin Spiced Lattes here are nothing compared to some other places. You want good seasonal coffee, go to Starkon.” At his words, Keith’s head snaps up so his eyes meet deep blue ones. Something twinges in his chest; pride? Confusion? He settles for an unsettling mixture of the two emotions.

“Why are you promoting the rival coffeeshop?” 

The barista-Lance-’s smile quirks up even more, if that were even physically possible. The guy had a smile so wide Keith briefly wondered if he grinned in his sleep. 

“I’m not promoting the rival coffeeshop, my man. _I’m promoting the truth.”_

Keith’s cheek twitches-the closest he usually got to a smile. _Why not play along with this charade? I’m supposed to be undercover anyway._ So he replies, “I won’t be sure about that until I try your Pumpkin… Spiced Latte.” 

“Ha! He finally says its name correctly!”

“I-I was saying it right before!”

“Uh huuuuuuh. Fine; if you insist, that’s one grande Pumpkin Spiced Latte coming up for…?” 

“Keith.”

“Ooo, you can say your own name too!”

“Shut _up.”_

“Alllllllllright!” The barista singsongs as he scrawls on the outside of Keith’s cup with a blue Sharpie. “Should be ready for you in a minute!” And then he has the audacity to _wink._ And Keith’s face has the audacity to _heat up_ at the gesture. Before he can say anything else clever, Keith spins on his heel and stalks across to the other side of the counter, where orders are being delivered. Before long, another barista wearing a bright headband slides a cup over the counter with a smile just as blinding as Lance’s. “Grande Pumpkin Spiced Latte for Mullet Man!”

Keith snorts a little from his spot against the window as he continues waiting for his drink. He feels a little sorry for whoever had brought that title upon themselves. But what’s odd is the fact that… no one budges. No other person in the cafe shows any means of walking up to the counter. After an awkward pause as some customers look around amongst themselves, Lance opens his mouth and does the unthinkable. 

“Hey, you! Red varsity jacket,” he starts. Keith bristles, because _he's_ wearing a red varsity jacket. “You, with the weird fingerless gloves and the rose tattoo on your collarbone, this drink’s for you and your hideous mullet!” Lance yells sweetly to the entire cafe. Keith thinks he has a system malfunction right there on the spot. Red-hot anger and shoots through Keith’s wiry frame as realization settles in. Keith grumbles under his breath, cheeks flaming, as a wave of titters circulate around the interior of Volbucks. Somewhere in a corner, two students let out a single loud laugh in unison. 

Keith storms up to the counter and swipes his drink away, ignoring all the commotion and the blazing heat creeping up his neck at an alarming rate. "I do not..." He hisses, directing the most evil glare he can muster at Lance, "... have a fucking mullet." Lance merely shrugs, an insufferable smirk on his face. "Whatever you say, man." Keith is too exhausted for this shit. He grabs some napkins aggressively and is about to storm out of the cafe when something on his cup catches his eye. Keith slowly turns the cup around until he’s met with a small wall of writing, and his embarrassed rage morphs into a different, more muddled emotion as he reads Lance’s chicken scratch.

_Now you’ve tried Volbuck's, wanna try Starkon's together? You can give me your final opinion on their pumpkin spiced latte (and realize that I’ve been right all along). My treat. ;)_

Keith stares disbelievingly at the message after reading it over 8 times. _You have got to be kidding me,_ he thinks as his feet involuntarily start to trip over themselves towards the counter, where Lance is resting his elbows on the glass surface with his chin in his hands and a smug, half-lidded expression on his tanned face. Keith’s arm shoves the cup at Lance’s nose. Keith’s mouth decides that now is a great time to be incapable of forming words.

“SO. So so so so so. Decided to take me up on my offer?” Lance smirks.

Keith can feel the blush on his face. Blood rushes to his ears. “You… in front of the entire cafe… ! And then-? This… !” He grits out. 

Lance hisses pseudo-sympathetically. “Ooh, sounds embarrassing. What a total jerk whoever that guy was huh, yelling like that to you! Must be a real charmer though, if he got you to blush that hard, wow. It’s not even remotely warm in here.” Lance’s pout turns into a poorly hidden smirk.

Keith’s eyes clench shut. “I haven’t even… tried this yet. Because of. _You.”_ He jabs a finger into Lance’s chest with an armed glare. Lance pretends to be shot (even makes a horrible gun sound) and staggers backwards with a hand splayed over his chest. His feet tumble over each other until he’s colliding into the mop that the other barista is using to mop up a spill behind the counter. Lance slips on said spill and his feet shoot out from under him. A mortifyingly high-pitched squawk rips from Lance’s throat as he tumbles down onto the wet mop. The other barista sighs fondly, as if this is a daily occurrence. “Man down,” he mumbles to Keith with a cheeky smile on his face, and Keith can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in him. 

Then he’s laughing, _hard,_ and there are tears in the corners of his eyes and he doesn’t remember anything else at all because he’s too busy not giving a damn for once; feeling happier than he’s been in what seems like an eternity. Keith laughs through Lance slowly crawling to his feet and he laughs through Lance staring at him with fond eyes and a half-smile and he laughs through Lance turning to his coworker as if to ask, _Are you seeing what I’m seeing?_ And he laughs through Lance’s coworker sending back a signal; _I’m seeing what anyone else is seeing - a happy guy laughing his guts out-but only you see deeper into that. Into him._

Keith finally stands up straight again, and says with a bold glint in his eye, “Why don’t we go after your shift is over? Then we’ll see which cafe truly has the better Pumpkin Spiced Latte.”

And there are stars and ocean waves and worlds of possibility in Lance’s eyes that just shout _yes._

**Author's Note:**

> inspiration for volbucks / starkon was from [this masterpiece](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/3e/bc/7a/3ebc7a7bf61ced738f9a224146f08cf1.jpg)
> 
> my [tumblr !](https://shakespeas.tumblr.com/)


End file.
